A Drifter's Hymn
by Dirgesworn
Summary: An undead banished from his own people and hated by his enemies, Exile must find a place to call home. But how can he when he is hunted by all and constantly disappears through portals against his own free will? R&R Chapter 3 NOW UP!
1. Chapter 1: Emptiness Overwhelming

**A Drifter's Hymn **

**Chapter One: Emptiness Overwhelming**

_Must I cry in the dark, though the sunavoids my eyes?  
_

_Is there no one there to hear my pleading cries?  
_

_Are you all against me, though I save your lives?  
_

_Are you all with me, though I remain and thrive?  
_

_You hunt me like a monster.  
_

_You pity me like a hound.  
_

_But who is the true terror_

_When no one is around_

_To save you from death_

_Though I be near.  
_

_You shed not a tear_

_To me, your savior.  
_

_You name me a monster.  
_

_So as I save you_

_Who will save me?  
_

That hymn has haunted my mind for years, the hymn of my long forgotten past. Who am I but a walking dead? Or am I walking? Movement is not seen by the step of your feet, but the passing of your life. How then can I move if I do not sleep, do not cry, do not feel? You all see me as another dead, having lost his movement of life. Everyone loses movement after life, but not all lose movement through a second life. I have no end, only a beginning and an everlasting middle. If so many fall, then why must I continue to stand? Am I but an exception, one who has escaped time, escaped from moving?

No matter what the movement of my life be, as long as I am dead, you see me as dead. But I am not dead. I am undead. Reborn into a dark world with dark purposes. But I am born without purpose. Are even those born without purpose doomed to walk this earthfor eternity? I suppose so, for I am one. A drifter, a lifeless being without meaning or purpose. No one wishes my existence, not even those like me. I am an exile, another obstacle for all others to destroy. I do no wrong. I do no good. So why am I marked a dead man?

Some speak of faith and honor. Some speak of pride and glory. Some even speak of torment and darkness. But what is my say in this place? As an enemy of the world and a heretic of my people, where am I to go? Where am I to say? Am I so hated that I was born of this earth only to be hated? To all I am nameless, a bastard not meant to be born in this world. But I do go by a name. To keep myself from doing the work of my enemies for them, I have given myself a name. None know of this name because none know anything of me. They only know of me as an enemy. If only they would call me by name, instead of monster or abomination, for I do have a name, a name that represents who I am to the world and to my empty self...

_...I am Exile..._

The sky was dark and my existence darker still. The trees were burnt in color but were only corrupt in nature. The wind passing through my armor and face was unusual compared to where I am from. Or at least where I think I am from. Beasts of large size plagued the land, attacking any who trespass them, even those of their own kind. All people pause upon my arrival on the scene, staring menacingly at my appearance. And who would blame them? A walking dead does not belong in a place of the living. Soon I reached a place of rest for myself,perhaps a place to finally call home. But the chances were slim. Who would invite a person such as I into their home? Perhaps I may never know.

A small ball crossed my path. I knelt down to pick it up, my armor scrapping against itself as it usual does with each movement I make. I held the ball in my grasp, wondering of its origin or its purpose. A small, night elf boy ran up to me and clapped as he saw the ball in my hand. He pointed to it, asking for it back and calling me 'Mister'. I gave the ball back to the young child, but another night elf appeared before me. She held onto the boy like the boy held onto the ball and screamed at me furiously.

"Stay away from my baby you monster!" she shouted.

All others around us glared at my presence, hate delved in their eyes. A small number of them drew their secreted weapons while others fled the scene in terror. I had only given the boy his ball back, what wrong had I committed? But I had a feeling they were not ready to kill me for what I had done but for who I was. I was one of the undead, yet I was their enemy.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, undead!" growled a night elf as he drew his dagger. "We'll make sure you never see the light of day again."

The light. What is light? Is it but a ray of sun or a revealing of the truth? I knew not of truth nor sun, for my world was bleak and darkened by hate and malice toward me. A hate that I did not deserve.

"Feel free to kill him." said a human among the many night elves. "The one who kills him can have his head as a trophy!"

After the entire group agreed they all snickered at me. Their minds must have been plagued with thoughts of my demise. Such hate toward me must have been well earned by my forsaking brethren though I did not deserve such a punishment. My crimes are none but my enemies many.

They all came at me, their daggers and swords at the ready. The first few that made their way to me first were unsuccessful in striking me once, for I had moved back one step as to avoid their attack. All others that attacked could not touch me either, for by then I drew my sword and had parried every blow. Their movement seemed so slow. It was like stopping a turtle from running. But I did not speak a word the whole fight, neither did I strike any of them down.

Each parry and dodge I made was easier and easier, for their endurance was not so great. They spoke of killing me and beheading me, but they were simply wearing themselves out. Finally a human mage stepped forward. His hands were grasping fire, a feat only done by spell casters. He fired his fireball and I dodged. Apparently he was no match for my speed. But to my dismay, he was also had a lousy aim. The second attack that I dodged meant that a fireball made a hit upon a beam that held up a small, stone tent. And hiding under that tent was the young boy and his ball. He noticed the tent's fall and cried in fear.

I do not know why, but I felt something inside me tell me to save that boy. I should have let him die in their, but for some reason I could not let that happen. Running to the boy, I shielded his body with my own. Rubble fell on my armor but I received no damage. But we were not there long, for my bracers and eyes glowed hellish red.

"No! Not again!" I screamed as my hand raised itself against my own will. Scarlet lightning shot from my hands and made a portal that showed a dark,  
desolate place, devoid of light and hope. I held the boy close, for I knew what was to come.

"Young one, hold tight." I said, hoping he would not run and be doomed like everyone else.

But to my surprise he held on. My entire body glowed crimson red and heat pulsed through me body. I felt a great, colder pulse in my body, and then nothing. I felt myself floating in darkness. I felt more empty than I have felt in a long time. This always happened when I was in danger of death. I did not wish for any of this to happen. It was all against my will, like everything else of this world.

Then when I felt there was no hope for me anymore, I felt something I had never felt before. I felt my heart beat. I felt my breath enter my body. Though I had never felt these wondrous things, I had a feeling I knew what they were.

Then I felt myself loose my breath, and I my ceased to beat. Those wonderful feelings left me, once again darkening my world. I did not feel the presence of the boy. I thought of what could have happened to him if he had remained in that town. It was truly horrible to think of such a thing. But I had no time to think long, for I felt myself pulled to a red light, a way out of this emptiness. This was the final stage of this event, but where I would go I never knew. Perhaps I would land in the home of my brethren where I would be executed. Or maybe I would end up in another nation's land, also doomed to the same fate. Or maybe, if I am lucky enough, I would appear in a place remote from all others, a place to remain at peace. With these thoughts I entered the new portal, traveling in an instant to wherever fate would lead me.


	2. Chapter 2: Plane Drifters and Void Hunte...

A Drifter's Hymn

Chapter 2: Plane Drifters and Void Hunters

_Darkness plagues my mind.  
_

_Terror grips my soul.  
_

_When there is no where left to run_

_Where would you go?  
_

_Tormented and torn_

_Battered and scorn_

_Wretched and forsaken_

_All homes taken_

_By those you used to call friend_

_Now enemies til the end.  
_

_Shadows haunt my dreams.  
_

_Fear at my side.  
_

_When there is no where left to flee_

_Where would you hide?_

From the perpetual darkness I arose to a dim morn. At first I wondered where I was. Also I had no idea how long I was out for. Then I remembered. The fight. The fire. The boy. Remembering the portal I had created and the boy I held on to save, I was curious as to what happened to the boy. Did I save him? Did he make it in the portal with me? Or did he end up like so many before...

Rising from the hard, barren ground, I gazed upon my surroundings. All I saw was barren, grey land. The only trees existing on its forsaken landscape were already long dead and corroding. No live was in sight. My hopes for the boy faded as I noticed his absence. I must have not been quick enough. Once again, I had failed another life. He was so young, so innocent. He did not deserve the punishment of those night elves and men that attacked me back in Darkshore.

And so I began my trek across the land. Every step was a hardship. My legs felt heavier and heavier with each movement I made. For this reason I did not understand. As an undead warrior, I should not at all be susceptible to pain or hardship. But then again, there really was no pain, it was just more difficult to move. Then I again thought why I am feeling this. Usually I do not feel this way after going through a portal. I finally decided it must be the dreariness of the land that is making me so heavy inside, though it was not feelings weighing me down.

After a few hour's walk, I knew something was wrong with me. I was feeling heavier then usual. It was to the point where I was just about crawling on all fours. Soon afterward I could not hold my own weight and collapsed. As I struggled to move, I heard a laugh in the distance.

"Amazing. Simply amazing!" laughed the voice.

Then a figure appeared before me. He was about my height (which was about six feet and eight inches) and wore black armor as I did. But it was fashioned differently. My armor, though decorated in some jutting spikes in specific areas like my shoulders and gauntlets, was basically plain in design. His was decorated in skulls. His helmet, shoulder pads, gauntlets, leggings, and boots were all dressed in black skulls. Upon his breastplate was a picture. Upon it was men, knight elves, and orcs. They were fleeing from this apparently powerful being in the center of the armor, for he was burning them in some sort of fire. The figures were in positions of pain and begging, as if crying out for help. For some reason, my stomach turned at this sight though I felt no pity for the figures in the armor or fear for the enemy before me.

"Usually it takes someone like you only minutes until you fully succumb to my curse." said the figure. "But surprisingly you lasted about four hours! You must be a special one."

A hunter of undead. He must have been after me the moment he saw I was littered with undeath. Though this was a different sort of foe, I knew I had to fight or else he would have my head handed to Stormwind's king for sure. But the problem is I could not budge an inch. I could do nothing as he drew closer.

"But now that I finally have you." said the figure. "You shall be the last of your kind!"

'Last of my kind'? What was this madman saying? Was I the last undead? That would be impossible unless I was out for many years. But that too must be an impossibility.

"Now be good and stay still." he said as he drew a flaming dagger from his sheath.

He drew ever closer with it, ready to stab me in the heart. As he drew closer I noticed fire was also emitting from his eyes. A dark, sinister aura lingered about him. It was unfamiliar to me and seemed like he was from the shadows himself. But as he was about to make his move, another voice echoed in the wind.

"You shall not harm him, vile hunter!" boomed the voice.

Then a gust of wind (which was unusual because there was not wind before) came at my attacker with great force, cutting at his armor and blowing him back. The weight that was holding me down all this time had finally been lifted from the muscles in my body and I arose feeling as light as a feather. Strangely enough, the wind did not harm me. The figure fought through the winds with great rage shouting, "You shall not take this one away from me!"

Suddenly a large, massive figure came out of nowhere, passed me, and tossed him aside in one blow with what appeared to me to be a totem. After he was laying upon the ground, he uttered these words, "By the might of the void, I condemn you!" At this I felt myself not growing heavier,  
but weaker. Everything around me was growing darker and darker until finally I fainted in my sudden fatigue.

I awoke after what felt to be hours later. The strangest thing was I was dreaming. In this dream, I saw myself in complete darkness. All I saw was myself and that crazy hunter. But this time there was an army of him. They chased me and I tried to flee, but could not. As they continued to advance in my direction, I ran in place. The faster I ran, the closer they got. I tried my hardest to summon a portal, but it was no good. Even in dreams I cannot control my abilities. I cried out helplessly. Finally there came seven figures.

They came in the opposite direction of the advancing horde. The army of hunters stopped as the seven darkened figures charged past me and after them. One was tall with pointed ears. Another had tusks growing from his mouth. There was two normal-sized ones, possibly more human-like then the others. But one was somewhat bulkier then the other. Two of them were small. One had a beard while the other had a sharply curled mustache. The last one, a big, muscular figure with horns protruding from his head, held out his hand to me. I accepted his hand and was pulled back up. After this he too entered the fray where the others were utterly massacring the army of hunters. As I ran toward them to join them in there fight, the entire army seemed to vanish. After this, the seven figures looked in my direction. I stopped to look at what they saw and I saw a bright light. They all seemed to disappear in the light, and I shielded my eyes from it. Suddenly a blast hit me and for that one brief second my heart beat and I gasped.

What was even stranger than my dream was that when I gasped in my plight, I woke up with that gasp in my long decayed lungs. My mind raced. Was I truly dreaming? I must have, for the breath that I received was real enough. Looking around, I noticed I was in a tent and was under a blanket of cloth. To my left was a Tauren. I remembered he must have been the large figure that saved me against that hunter and in my dream.

"I was wondering when you would arise." said the old tauren. "For a second there I thought you could be more dead then you already were."

He laughed at this. Before him was a fire. The smoke arose out of a hole at the top of the triangular tent. A totem lay beside him and his mane was a bit grey. One of his horns was cut short, like it was chipped off at some point.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Why, I am Rankar Thunderblood, at your service." smiled the Tauren. "And I see you also hold 'the gift'."

"What gift?" I asked.

"The gift of the Plane Drifters." he answered. "A great gift, I must say."

"Tell me, old one. What is a Plane Drifter?" I asked.

"So many questions." he chuckled. "You are quite the curious undead, aren't you?"

"You might say I have many questions remained unanswered." I said as my eyes looked in the other direction.

"Then I shall answer your question." he said. "Do you notice those bracers perminently located on your wrists? Those are the instruments of the Plane Drifters, an elite group of drifters born into every intelligent race of Azeroth every one hundred years."

"Really?" I said. "So there are others who have this, curse?"

"Curse?" he said in suddenly alarm. "That bracer is no curse, my dear boy! You are gifted with the ability to control the void! You can travel to many lands within an instant and have the ability to do great things! And you say it is a curse?"

"But every time I go through a portal, I destroy all who are within the area. Everything reduced to ashes all because of me." I said.

"And you feel remorse for them, even though you are undead, do you not?" he asked. "Unfortunately that is the side effect of an untrained drifter."

"Really?" I responded. "By and by, who was that who attacked me?"

"That was a Void Hunter, my boy." he answered. "A hunter of the darkness that exist to hunt down and kill the Plane Drifters and delve the world into eternal chaos. And like the Plane Drifters, they too are born into the world every one hundred years. It is a secret war between true good and evil, thhough some Drifters prefer to use their power for personal gain."

"Tell me, old one. How do you know of this? How do you know of Void Hunters and Plane Drifters if they are in a constant secret war?" I asked.

"Because..."

As he said this, he rolled up his sleeves. On his wrists he bore the same bracers that I had. The same runes lay upon its metal exterior, and I knew what he was.

"I too, am a Plane Drifter."


	3. Chapter 3: Good Intentions to a Dark Wil...

**A Drifter's Hymn**

**Chapter 3: Good Intentions to a Dark Will**

_A friend in need_

_Is a friend indeed._

_But what of this friend?_

_Will he follow til morn's end?_

_Or will he fall to trust's fleeting image_

_Seeing my existence as damage_

_To all who walk this earth._

_Or have I found a hearth?_

_A home to call my own_

_A place where love is shown._

_But I sit and wonder still_

_Are these good intentionsto a dark will?_

Could this be real? Am I once again dreaming? There must be an explanation. Why would a Tauren, though a Plane Drifter like me, greet me like a fellow neighbor. But could it be because I have these fell bracers that he welcomes me so? He did not see my bracers before he saw me attacked by that Void Hunter, so he must be truthful. Or is he?

"So you are a Plane Drifter?" I asked.

"That I am." said Rankar. "And you have a mission here."

"What would that be?" I wondered.

"You must save that boy you came here with." he said.

"How do you know of that boy?" I questioned. "And even if you do know him, he died with all the others back in Darkshore."

"That is where you are wrong." he said as he left the tent.

I followed behind him. I noticed we were situated on a hilltop, overlooking much of the land. But sad to say, I could not see any green or life along the horizon, only empty land. He stood at the edge of the cliff the tent looked over. I stood beside him, looking at the bleak sunset.

"He arrived at the same time as you." said Rankar. "I was out, looking for food, when I saw you and the boy. You two were laying on the ground. I looked at you and thought you were dead. But how could I tell? You are already dead!"

Rankar gave a hardy laugh. His bull-like mane shook with his laughter.

"But what became of the boy?" I asked in curiosity. "What happened to him. He was not beside me when I awoke."

"As I approached the boy, another approached." he said.

"The Void Hunter?" I chimed in.

"If the Void Hunter had found him it would be pointless to go looking for him. They are ruthless and brutal. They would kill women and children if it meant extinguishing all Plane Drifters from this world. It was the centaur that took the boy."

"Horse-men?" I said. "Why would they want the boy?"

"The centaur are a savage race." answered Rankar. "They often commit cannibalism if it means having a full stomach for the night."

"Why did you not take the boy?" I asked.

"If I had, they would have attacked." responded Rankar. "I am a Tauren. Though I am a Plane Drifter, I am not a dwarf tank. There were more then twenty centaur in that hunting party. If my guess is correct, they must be at their camp. It is a good hour's trek, but if we move now we can make it to their camp when the moon is high in the sky."

And so we began our journey. Rankar brought some supplies for himself but I required none. Halfway though the hike he pulled out some food and ate while I waited for him to finish.

"By and by." he said suddenly. "What is your name? Or do you undead even know your name?"

"Most of my kind know our mortal names, but I do not." I responded.

"Then what shall I call you?" he asked.

"Exile." he said.

"Somehow that is a fitting name for a drifter." commented Rankar. "I seem to like it."

After he ate his fill of water and an apple, we continued. I was relieved to know that I had a powerful ally to keep me from once again falling prey to that Void Hunter's sorcery. There seemed to be in a good mood for being in such a serious search and rescue mission. I also wondered that when this was over and we both survived if he would teach me anything. But that would have to wait, for soon we approached the centaur camp.

There were many tents scattered upon the open plain surrounded by water. The ferocious horse-men grunted in their own barbaric language, filling themselves with water and meat. After scouring the site, we both noticed the boy. He was locked in a crudely made cage of wood, huddled in a beetle position. He was absolutely horrified.

In instinct I was about to run to him and release him, but Rankar stopped me. Without a word he pointed to a freakishly huge centaur with an axe laying at his side by the feast. From the way the many other centaur were situated around him it was obvious that he was their chief.

"That there is Khan Grimage." whispered Rankar. "He is an infamous centaur known throughout the land for frequent pillaging and raiding along with killing more beasts then a normal centaur should, depriving the land of enough cattle for the other denizens."

"What should we do? We must help the boy before he is fed to those savages." said I.

"If there is one thing that I have learned after many years fighting these centaur is that Grimage does not assist the other centaur unless he feels like it. You and I both know... well, I know that I would not want to fight while on a full stomach, so neither would a selfish centaur like Grimage. If we can give the other centaur the impression that another centaur tribe is coming, they will leave the feast to fight. After this we will both rush in, kill Khan Grimage, and rescue the boy."

"But how will we manage to make them think there is another tribe?" I asked.

"As a tradition, all centaur signal their coming when approaching a rival tribe's camp." he answered. "We must signal them with a separate centaur tribe's horn. I just so happened to have picked this horn off a dead centaur from a tribe I know of just yesterday. It should be of use to us."

Rankar pulled from his pouch a horn. It was wooden and slightly battered, but still usable. Its marking were different from that of the horns I saw carried by the centaur at this camp.

"How will we manage to blow the horn away from the camp if we must both fight Grimage?" I asked.

"Leave that to me." said Rankar as he pointed to the east. "Just plant the horn about one hundred meters in that direction."

After I did so, I rejoined Rankar on the outskirts of the small stream that encircled the centaur camp. When Rankar gave me the signal, we dove into the stream. After swimming a small distance to the other side, we hide behind a large barrel full of water. We kept a close eye on the night elf boy and the centaur guarding his cage.

"What should we do now?" I whispered.

"Leave that to me." said Rankar as he waved his hand to the east.

Suddenly the war horn sounded and every centaur silenced from their quarreling and grunting. Once again Rankar waved his hand to the east, and once again the centaur stood silent. After the third time the centaur drew forth their spears, axes, and bows and marched away toward the sound. It occurred to me that Rankar was using the same method he had used to stop that Void Hunter from slaying me. He used the power of the wind to blow through the horn and make it blow.

Khan Grimage stood up, but did not join the others. He stood their greedily eying the boy, terrified inside his small, cramped cage. He drooled with hunger, obviously unable to control his hunger for his little 'dessert'. He trotted toward the boy, drawing his axe, ready to kill. Rankar and I then jumped from hiding and stood between Grimage and the boy. Having spoiled his meal, Grimage furiously swiped his axe at us, which missed because he was so blinded by rage. Grimage charged at us with great power, but he was halted when I grabbed him by the arms. He pushed me back to the point that I was bending backward toward the boy's cage. I finally let go of Grimage and he lifted his forelegs high in the air, ready to trample me.

Then Rankar waved his hand from his hip up to his face in haste. Wind was suddenly pushed from the ground to Grimage, causing him to rear up too far and toppling over backwards. Because of his horse-like lower body, this was a fatal blow to his legs. And because of his human-like torso, this was also a devastating blow to his neck With Grimage crippled and slain, we turned toward the boy. He remembered me from before, so his fear turned to joy.

"Thanks again, mister." he said with a relieved smile.

"'Mister'?" chuckled Rankar as he smiled at me. "I do believe he called you 'Mister'."

"Come kid." said I. "Let's get you out of here."

I picked the night elf boy. He held on to me tight, but held on even tighter when hooves were heard coming back in the direction of the camp. They were the same hooves belonging to the centaur who we fooled. We imaged they would not be at all happy to see two strangers in their home having killed their chieftain, so we fled. After we were out of the centaur's sight and back at Rankar's tent, we put the boy to bed, allowing him some rest after his traumatic experience with the centaur. The sun was rising and the night grew old. I sat upon the cliff where Rankar and I stood, planning on the boy's rescue. It was only moments until Rankar arose from the tent and sat beside me.

"So, when shall we begin?" he asked.

"Begin? What shall we begin?" I questioned in great curiosity.

"Your training!" he barked. "We must train you in the art of Plane Drifting soon. That Void Hunter will not be hiding for long. He will return. Most likely he will bring others."

"But then should we not flee?" I asked.

"Flee?" he laughed. "We will not flee. First I shall teach you the basics, then we shall embark on a journey to find the other Plane Drifters."

"It sounds like a plan." I said. "But where will we find them?"

"There is a Plane Drifter for each race of Azeroth." he answered. "There is a Plane Drifter of the night elves, humans, orcs, trolls, tauren, dwarves, gnomes, and just recently undead. We must look for each of them in their native lands."

"Where shall we begin?"

"I will think of that while I train you in the art of Plane Drifting." he said. "If we are to go on a more perilous journey then the one we just accomplished, you need to be ready. We cannot afford any more Darkshores. We will begin with your powers."

"Powers?"

"Yes." he said "in addition to being able to travel through portals at command, Plane Drifters, depending on their race, can each control a different element. For instance, I, a tauren, control the gusting might of the wind. What the other races control I am not sure. But first we must discover you element."

"How shall we do that?" I asked.

Then Rankar clenched his fists and sent a direct punch into my jaw. I fell to the ground and I felt no pain, but something did not seem right. Why was he hitting me?

"What was that for?" I asked.

"Under extreme instances of danger novice Plane Drifters tend to summon their powers to defend themselves without wishing to." he said.

Again he knocked me to the ground with a punch. Several times he did this, but to no avail. My painless flesh was not feeling a single bit of this pain, but it was not comforting to see a friend continue to pummel me. Eventually I might actually die... again.

"Come now. Fight back!" barked Rankar. "Or are you just going to let that boy down like you did last time!"

Something happened inside me. I felt strange. It was a new feeling that I had not even felt in my dreams or in Plane Drifting. It was painful in the region of my heart. Everything went red for me. Whatever it was, I did not like it.

"Now fight me you wimp!" he roared as he sent down another one of his fists toward my face.

This time I did not receive the blow. Kneeing on the ground, I was staring at the ground, but the fact that I was still kneeling and not on the ground again was astonishing. Between Rankar's fist and my face was a black barrier of pure shadow. I also noticed that my shadow had vanished, like it was what blocked Rankar's attack. And it was. Looking at Rankar, that dark feeling grew.

"I will not let him down!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

My shadow then separated into several shards of black and shot at Rankar. After each piercing at Rankar's hide, they each turned around and attacked over and over again. They were like gnats, constantly biting at Rankar.

"You hear me? I will never let him down!" I shouted.

Then the shards stabbed Rankar. This time, like normal shards of glass (black glass, anyway) they stuck in his skin. Then they exploded in a dark fury. After the dust settled, Rankar stood before me with a smile. He walked up to me and held out his hand. It became clear to me that this situation was not a good intention to a dark will, but a great intention to a greater will.

"Well done, Exile." he laughed. "Now your training may begin."


End file.
